What Pride had Wrought
by Superagaentv
Summary: Round 6, Season 4, Quidditch Writing Competition


_AN: For my SIN I choose **Pride** , because it is considered one of the worst sins. Otherwise known as Vanity, this sin is when a person "believes excessiblef in one's own talents. Your punishment is being broken on the_

 _Lyrics used: **Song of Silence** by Simon Garfunkel, though I like the cover by Disturbed more. _

_Word count: 941_

* * *

 _Hello darkness, my old friend_

All that was left was panic.

It was clear on their faces; they had not meant for this to happen.

Wands fell through the air, released from their earthly prisons, as they both rushed to her aide feeling like they were moving through slow motion, or water.

Knees hit the ground without the pain of the act being felt, hands reached out to touch what couldn't be brought back. Tears fell slowly as screams echoed silently, lips forever pursed to call forth a name that could not be brought back.

She was lying there, her long blond hair in disarray, a small trickle of blood coming from her nose. Her big eyes open, yet they were never to see again. Her lips open to call out, begging them to stop –

" _Albus, please!"_

He hadn't listened.

He never listened.

He thought he knew better.

He always thought he knew better.

 _I've come to talk with you again_

No one came to the funeral.

He never expected they would.

The only person who had expressed a wish to come was the one who had done this – a delusion they both suffered, but who could be more at fault than the one with delusions of grandeur and a wild attitude?

Even he was unsettled by the answer that rang out in his brain.

Had he been less prideful.

Had he listened.

Had he seen the need to stop and consider all the angles.

Had he done so many things, she might have been with him now.

Her body was being laid to rest, lowered into the earth.

It seemed so cold and lonely, an eternal prison that held his grief, like all that she had suffered here on this earthly plain.

If anyone deserved Heaven, it would be her – though he could not guarantee her a place there.

" _Albus, please!"_

Her voice echoed in his mind, though he could not answer – would not answer.

Turning away, he marched into a cage of denial that was made from the memories of the dead.

 _Because a vision softly creeping_

"It wasn't my fault."

His lips uttered the words, but he knew – he _knew -_ that it was a lie. A lie he told himself over and over to render the ache in his soul a little less than the day before, all while it grew wild; its claws digging into his heart and mind.

When he closed his eyes, he could see her – and not for what she had been, but as she had last been.

She had been blameless, sinless – pure.

She alone had known that it might come to this on that day

It was four years to the day, and still it played like a Muggle movie in his brain. At times, it almost felt like she was watching this particular film too; placing her head on his shoulder, like she had so often done before, whispering.

" _Albus, please."_

The film always ended the same way, and he always woke up crying.

He could not give her what she wanted.

His own hubris had been himself, it was as plain as black and white, but still he said: "It wasn't my fault."

 _Left its seeds while I was sleeping._

It had come to this.

Familiar was the ground on which they stood, their wands raised – in what seemed more like a desperate salute to the dead than a fight for the living.

Neither of them were the same as they had been back then, but this time – pride was on his side.

"It didn't have to come to this, Albus."

But it did.

Desperately, the world needed it to come to this.

He needed it to come to this.

All at once they were not on a platform where the whole world would change, but in his backyard.

All at once the grey in their hair was gone, and the youthful glow pulsed in their eyes once more.

" _Albus, please!"_

He listened.

 _And the vision that was planted in my brain_

 _Albus Dumbledore,_ the heading read, _greatest wizard of our time!_

He might have thought that once, but never again would he mistake youthful talent for what it really was; he had promised her that.

And yet, here he was, knowing he had failed her once again.

His hair wasn't greying anymore, it had all gone white as a new evil surfaced in their world. The problem was, he couldn't prove it.

But he knew.

He _always_ knew.

Though he had hoped he was wrong.

He could see her as he heard the news, tears forming in his eyes.

" _Albus…..please."_

"What do we _do,_ Albus?"

Everything was moving in slow motion amidst the tears and the screams. He felt like he might have been underwater as he took the baby into his arms, his heart beating against its earthly prison.

A second chance.

"Albus, please."

Perhaps now, he could do right by her.

 _Still remains within the sound of silence_

The light had been calming, soothing, like hearing a child giggle on a cold afternoon.

He never expected to be here.

Walking slowly, he took in the gentleness of this place – feeling his heart be free – when he saw her.

She looked just the same. Time nor the constant replay of that memory had touched her as it had touched him.

She did not float, nor walk, instead she held out her hand and let her eyes speak for them both. Her hand did not tremble, her big eyes were open, her nose was perfectly white, and her lips were parted in a whispered,

" _Albus, please."_

He listened.


End file.
